


Maimaktêriôn

by yorkisms



Category: Lazer Team (2015)
Genre: Backstory, Canon Disabled Character, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Milford is an awful small town, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Religion, Zach's ADHD, football and football references, unreliable narrator at times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-16 01:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9266780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yorkisms/pseuds/yorkisms
Summary: Greek Name: ΜαιμακτηριωνTransliteration: MaimaktêriônLatin Spelling: MaemacterianTranslation: Month of ZeusOr: Zach Spencer is asked to talk about himself. The story goes something like this.





	1. Amboulios

**Author's Note:**

> This is a spiritual successor to my fic about Adam, Dulce Et Decorum Est! It's occurring at the same time, I suppose, timeline wise (starting with Zach being born in 1996), so think of them as happening in parallel. 
> 
> Speaking of happening in parallel...if I have as much fun with this as I did with DEDE, maybe expect a similar fic about some of our other favorite alien fighters? After all, I have put forth a premise by which to introduce the others into this...but we'll see. 
> 
> Enjoy!  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No good at life, but very funny sometimes with the commentary.”  
> ― Kurt Vonnegut
> 
> Greek Name: Αμβουλιος  
> Transliteration: Amboulios  
> Latin Spelling: Ambulius  
> Translation: Counsellor

"Zachary Spencer." 

"Yeah, that's me." 

Zach raises an eyebrow at the DETIA whitecoat sitting across from him. Then he drops his shoulders slightly and rolls his eyes.

"And it's Zach."

There's another pause, long, and awkward in nature. Zach narrows his eyes slightly, unhappy with the situation and with the relative confinement of the room. 

It's not that big, big enough for a square table and two chairs on either side, with a few feet of space on each side and a door in the corner behind the psychologist, such that if one were to try and make a break for it they would have to push past the guy first, which would doubtlessly trigger some kind of alarm for the numerous DETIA soldiers milling around throughout the base. The walls were tiled, and looked a freakish shade of over-white. Is that called neon white? Zach wonders. Is that what you call such a shade? He's not sure. Don't scientists say that white isn't a color, either? He heard that somewhere. Maybe he absorbed it during physics while doodling or something. He's pretty sure white and black aren't colors. So in that case, is there such a thing as neon white, is it even possible for there to be-

The psychologist clears his throat, and Zach glares.

"Well?" Zach says, slightly defensive, raising his shoulders just a bit to better convey his meaning that he'd like this to be over as fast as possible.

"Psychological evaluations are mandatory given...recent events."

"I know about the recent events. I was there. Get to the point." 

Zach leans back in his chair, bouncing one leg. The chair isn't necessarily flimsy, but it does shake with him. The feedback of vibrating metal is actually kind of relaxing, grounding, helps him remember that he's here and alive and okay. And it vents the nervous energy he's been holding onto. Perfect. And the guy doesn't seem to notice, either, which is a bonus since not everyone is a fan of Zach's methods of venting his energy.

"You're aware that this is a psychological evaluation." 

"Yeah, we already had one of those." 

"That was a more...rushed affair, given the limited amount of time we had at the time. This will be a more in-depth process."

Zach groans. Yes, he has to be here, but that doesn't mean he's not going to complain about this. Anyone who knows him knows he's not good at sitting still in one spot and doing one sustained activity, excepting video games and movies, really.

"Great. How long is this gonna take." 

"A few hours," the psychologist (Zach can safely assume that he is) says, clearly unsure of such an estimate. Zach groans again, louder and more dramatic. A few hours? How badly does DETIA not know him?

"Aw, bullshit." 

"It's mandatory." 

"Yeah, everyone on the fuckin' planet told me that coming here. I know it's mandatory. That doesn't mean I want to do it." 

"Fair enough." 

There's an awkward pause, and Zach folds his arms as best he can, still leaning back. The psychologist writes something down. What the fuck is that for, Zach thinks. He hasn't even said anything yet. What the hell does this guy think he knows about shit.

"Start at the beginning." 

"Of what, when the ship crashed?" 

Zach can do that, thank you. He had nothing to do with that. Well...he had very little to do with...the actual act of bringing the ship down. Mostly. Maybe a little. Yelling for Herman to light that firework isn't that much, is it? Zach doesn't think so. He didn't start the fire, okay? Herman and his weird kinda-gay unresolved breakup issues did that. Is that how you put it? Well, that's definitely his story on that subject. It's not his fault Herman and his aforementioned weird gay jealousy listened to him!

"No. This is meant to be a more in-depth evaluation than before. What was the beginning of your life like, what are your earliest memories." 

"Oh, cool, cool, I'm gonna talk about my parents for a few hours then you're gonna let me go and tell the US government about my shit. Great. Fuckin' fantastic." 

"The only information about this meeting that will be shared is my evaluation of your mental state." 

"And who said I want you poking around in my life," Zach mutters. He unfolds his arms and rests his gun hand on the table. 

"Fine, whatever, you wanna know about my life. I played football. I have a girlfriend. She's the hottest fuckin' cheerleader on the squad and now I work with her dad in the savin' the world department. Which we did. Pretty sweet, right?" 

"That's not a lot of detail. Or information I don't already know about you. Anyone could tell me that." 

"Yeah, duh." 

"I'm supposed to listen to the stuff that nobody else knows. That's a very superficial analysis of who you are."

Zach sighs, and rolls his eyes. 

"Fine. Let me reach back." 

He pauses for a minute, then lifts his eyes slightly. 

"I don't know if anyone would ever guess't outside of Milford-" 

"Yes?" 

Zach sighs, a mix of nostalgia and reluctance to keep speaking. His twitches get slightly stronger, almost as if they escalate given time and energy. Where does he start? There's a lot of places to start. He could start with his (glorious) birth, 16 May 1996, at Milford's sole tiny hospital. Twenty-point-whatever inches, ten-something pounds. Whatever, he just remembers his parents saying he was big as a baby. 

But then, of course there's the one story- yes, of course, no one in his family has ever let him forget about this one. It's about as early as he can go back on the Zach Spencer timeline, really. 

"When't comes to me as a kid, even though I don't remember it, my parents always talk about when I was baptized."

"You were?"

"Who isn't?" 

"A lot of people."

"Not around here, no way," Zach replies dismissively. He knows Milford. Or, at least, he knows his parents' Milford. And there's no way natives Milford, Texas, weren't baptized. Zach is pretty confident of that.

"Go on." 

"Well, more like they always complain about it." 

"What happened?" 

"I don't remember it, but I was a piece'f shit, they say..."


	2. Katharsios

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greek Name: Καθαρσιος  
> Transliteration: Katharsios   
> Latin Spelling: Catharsius   
> Translation: ...of ritual purification

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, to explain: The chapter titles are all cult titles of Zeus (since the sword of Zeus parallel is too real and the title of this fic does mean the month of Zeus, after all.) So think of the titles as describing who Zach (Zeus in this parallel) is in the chapter, or describing what he's associating with!
> 
> If you're curious about one: go ahead and ask me. I definitely have a method to these.

"Eternal father:   
When nothing existed but chaos,  
you swept across the dark waters  
and brought forth light.  
In the days of Noah  
you saved those on the ark through water.  
After the flood you set in the clouds a rainbow.  
When you saw your people as slaves in Egypt,  
you led them to freedom through the-"

The priest stops, looking down at the child (Zach, a few months old, no health concerns so far) who is reaching for the crucifix hanging from the priest's hand with curiosity and fascination. 

The mother looks horrified. 

"My apologies, father, I-" 

The priest smiles, amused. 

"A curious child is never a bad thing, ma'am. Especially when it's like this." 

"He's just so energetic," she says, almost worried by it. 

"We have had worse behaved children before, and we will afterwards." 

She thanks him, and the ceremony carries on.

"I don't understand," she says, later, to her husband as she makes dinner. The baby is sleeping, they've moved his crib downstairs for the moment to keep an eye on him.

"Don't understand what? Honey, he's just a kid. He's not even old enough to understand to not cry during service, do you think he's going to realize he's not supposed to do stuff like that-" 

"He does a lot of grabbing," she says flatly. "Toys in the store, if you hold him close enough. People's hair and clothes. Anything he can fit inside his mouth, if he feels like it. I don't know what's wrong with him-"

"Abby, I think he's just a curious kid. Nothing wrong with that." 

She sniffs. 

"Well, I don't know if I like it." 

"Just give it a bit of time, I'm sure he'll grow out of-" 

"You know if we look back and this isn't true, Shane--" 

"Oh, what're you gonna do about it." 

She hisses, irritated. 

"Fine. Yes. Fine. Give it time."

\--

"So you interrupted the ceremony, is the story."

"Yeah, that's the story." 

"And your family tells you this one a lot?"

"Yeah, hear about it all the time." 

"Do you think there's any reason?"

Any reason? Zach knows very little about people, definitely not enough to know if there's a reason that he keeps hearing about this stuff. 

Maybe it's that his mom's a bitter bitch in one of a few categories. Bitter at his energetic nature, bitter that he hasn't really lived up to the predictions one could draw from that story. 

Maybe they genuinely find it cute and endearing, but he doubts that quite sincerely. It's not like he's really...the cute and endearing sort. 

"Hey, man. Beats the fuck out of me." 

"So you were a very energetic child."

"Yeah. Why, are you surprised?" 

"No. Was school difficult for you, then?" 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Don't get defensive. School isn't an environment...conducive, to such things."

Zach huffs. 

"Yeah, okay, I wasn't that good at school." 

"Did you lose stuff?" 

"Huh?" 

"That can be an irritation, with a parent of such an...energetic child. Losing things. Pencils, textbooks, notes-" 

"I get it, I get it. Yeah, I lost a ton of stuff."

"Hm." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Nothing. Do you remember any other stories about you as a baby, or young child, that your parents would tell you?"

Zach frowns at the doctor for a moment, trying to discern the truth behind that very clear lie, but after a while he throws the puzzle away. 

"Uh...I'unno. Why's this important, anyway?" 

"We're trying to get a complete psychological profile. Anything you tell me is helpful." 

"Don't you do this stuff by showing me ink blots and asking what it looks like, or whatever?" 

"Well, we do, but not right now. We need a more complete picture than that."

"What, so you're asking about shit I did that I can't even remember?" 

"Every little thing helps."

"Fine. What else do you want to know?" 

"It's not so much about what I want to know as much as what you think is most important." 

"Okay, okay." 

Zach pauses, mind racing. There's a lot he could talk about, if he decided to unload, but really, why can't he start with something calmer, something that makes him look like less of a freak than some of the later stuff, what are some stories that-- 

"My dad was never too concerned, but when I was little my mom'd talk about how when I was about two or three how I almost ran off. Like. Into the fuckin' woods or somethin'." 

"Ran off?" 

"Yeah, just, crawled out of my room and ran away. Made it to the end of the block before my mom found out I was missin'." 

"Do you remember why you did that?" 

Zach pauses, then shrugs. Might as well make some stuff up to back up that panic-fueled verbage. He's pretty good at making stuff up, if he does say so himself. He can make it through this stupid evaluation then go back to his room and call Mindy and act like nothing is wrong. 

Because nothing is wrong. He's fine. He's Zach Spencer, goddammit. King of being normal. Right? Totally!

"I can make a guess."

"Then guess."

"Well..."


	3. Ktêsios

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greek Name: Κτησιος  
> Transliteration: Ktêsios  
> Latin Spelling: Ctesius   
> Translation: ...of the house/property

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really motivated with this fic ~~(possibly because i'm biased and Zach is my fave)~~ so I may upgrade it to getting 2 updates a day.
> 
> Either way, it'll get at least one a day. Writing every day is nice for me, tbq!

Once Zach walks, he runs, and once Zach runs, he has to be confined to a few rooms in the house with locked doors and baby gates. 

He's a tenacious kid, though, as well as an energetic one, and he's spent more than enough time staring out the window watching the world happen. He does believe that he can't stand another day of sitting in this room playing with toys he already knows backwards and forwards. 

He doesn't plan this far ahead, really, but to his fortune his mother is on the other side of the house (not watching him), taking care of...something inane. 

So when the idea occurs to Zach, second-guessing himself is not in his nature. He wanders over to the gate, before trying to climb it. 

It's not precisely conducive to being climbed, as no gate should be, but he eventually lifts himself over and falls down the other side, landing on his butt. 

He doesn't cry, though, and instead sits there for a moment or two, getting his bearings before he gets back up. 

Across the hall from him is the next obstacle: the stairs. He's not exactly the appropriate size for taking stairs on his own, but this time he has the spatial skills to hang on to the balusters as he negotiates his way to the downstairs. 

He looks up and down the hall that runs through his house, from the front to the back. He can't really decide which door- the front or the back- presents a more rich view of the world outside his house. 

First he takes a few steps towards the front door, then looks back. The back door is open except for a screen sliding door, which allows for a better view of how his backyard backs onto what could ostensibly be called either a forest or a thick patch of trees, depending on your experience with forests. 

Zach has very little experience with forests, so to him, it might as well be the stuff of middle-grade chapter books, or made for TV children's movies he hasn't seen yet. A place full of new things he hasn't seen. 

This is what draws his attention, and he walks down through the hall to the back of the house where the back door is. 

The lock for the back door is barely within his reach, and not enough so that he can properly unlock it- more that he can brush it with his fingertips. 

Crap. Zach stares up at the door, frustrated, before wandering through the downstairs and finding a few books. 

He carries these back to the door, stacking them and climbing up enough so that he can unlock the door and press the latch, causing the screen to spring open with a loud noise. He jumps, falling backwards off the books. 

He collects himself, and steps into the backyard. 

He's forced to squint, at first. Everything is so bright-- so very bright. The next thing he notices is that the grass is bright, lush, green and soft, and he immediately occupies himself with feeling it. 

It has quite a nice feel, he thinks. He wasn't sure, looking through the window, that he would have expected it to feel like this. Now he knows.

The dirt is dark brown, and feels just the right amount of moist. Enough that he wants to bury his hands in it, just a bit, until he's distracted by watching a line of ants return to a small anthill by the side of the house. 

He watches the ants for a few minutes, wondering precisely what these tiny things do down there, before a flash of sunlight on grass draws his eyes back to the yard.

A dragonfly flits by his face, and Zach finds himself filled with a determination to catch this thing (armed only with his tiny hands). 

He makes a few swipes at it before chasing after it to the tree line, where he pauses under the shadow of the trees. 

He's surprised by how tall they are up close- they seemed like they might be closer to the height of his parents from far away, but he has to crane his neck to see the sunlight through the leaves. 

He gently puts one hand on the trunk. It's rough, the texture both surprising and intriguing at the same time, causing him to run his hands curiously over the tree for a few minutes. He cycles around the tree in this way, feeling, until he notes a curious non-dirt texture under his feet. 

He looks down. These are leaves, some more living than the rest. He bends down and picks one up, admiring the deep green and gloss on one side and the paler green on the other side. 

"Zachary!" 

Zach looks up and back towards the house, where his mother is running out towards him. 

He drops the leaf. 

"Ma?" 

She picks him up. 

"Don't run off like that, that's dangerous- ugh, you're covered in dirt!" 

He giggles, pleased. 

"You need a bath right away, young man. And don't leave the house without permission ever again!" 

Zach doesn't respond, and she puts one hand on the side of his face, pointing his gaze back to her so forcefully that it almost hurts.

"Hey. Listen. Do you hear me?" 

Zach nods. 

"Tell me that you're not going to do that again."

Zach nods again, reluctantly. 

"M'not gon- m'not gon' go out back w'thout p'rmission."

"Good." 

- 

"And that was just- the end of that?" 

Zach snorts. 

"As if." 

"Go on." 

"Well- there was school. That didn't help." 

"So your relation with your parents has never been good?" 

"Nah." 

"Can you think of why?" 

Zach pauses. 

"I don't think they really-- understand." 

"Lots of kids think that." 

Zach snorts loudly. 

"You don't know my parents, then." 

"Tell me about school."

"Jee-sus. Talking about school doesn't even start good."


	4. Maimaktês

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greek Name: Μαιμακτης  
> Transliteration: Maimaktês  
> Latin Spelling: Maemactes   
> Translation: ...boisterous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Wow, I'm probably gonna post two chapters a day!   
> Me: immediately gets...far too busy to try that. 
> 
> Oh well. Maybe I can pump it up over the weekend. 
> 
> Also, now I think is the time (since I forgot in the first chapter notes) to thank my beta reader, churb (mettatoning on tumblr) and my lovely dm Val (bearrightsactivist/leave-xray-alone). They've both always been my inspiration and incredibly kind with letting me talk at them to sort out my thoughts, and bounce fic ideas off of them...actually, me writing another multi-chapter fic is a direct result of me betting Val I could get to 50K words in solely lazer team fic before the sequel (currently pushing 30K!) 
> 
> Anyway, I love and appreciate you both. <3
> 
> Enjoy!

Zach's first day at school proper is a confusing mess. 

He's six, now, starting first grade (kindergarten doesn't really count, does it?) and he's standing on the steps of Milford Elementary school looking up. 

He gets lost in the details of the building rather quickly, the textures of the walls and the worn metallic red paint on the sign over the door. 

This is, of course, before he's bumped by someone in the crowd which is flooding around him, and his attention returns to getting to class. 

He sits in one of the middle rows, his legs swinging as he looks around the classroom. It's decorated, so he has a lot to look at. A lot of bright colors to catch his eye. 

In fact, he doesn't even notice when the bell rings and class starts. 

He's more forced to notice when the teacher stands next to his desk and taps it. He jumps. 

There are some giggles. 

"Are you paying attention?" 

Zach nods (a total lie- he has been lost in thought for some time now, and probably couldn't even guess what's been going on.) 

"Look at me when I'm talking to you." 

Zach frowns slightly, confused- isn't that what he's doing? 

"What kind of math are we learning this year?"

"...'ddition n' subtraction," Zach says slowly. The class snickers, and his teacher sighs. 

She moves on.

So does he. 

The first day continues without much more incident, but the rest of the week is not much like that. He doesn't understand much about school. He's only allowed to run around at certain times, and he has to sit down all day and focus, neither of which he likes. 

Of course, for the moment he classifies it as he doesn't _like_ to, but it's only one degree of separation from he _can't_. 

"Zach, sit down."

"Zach, stop bouncing your leg like that."

"Look at me when I'm talking to you." 

"Are you paying attention?" 

"Don't touch that." 

The list goes on, and by Friday afternoon Zach is tired and it's firmly in his subconscious that he can't not be like this. 

"Have a great weekend. Oh, Zach? Please stay after a moment." 

What? Zach freezes, then nods stiffly. This has to do with how he's been in trouble all week, right? He's probably gonna get kicked out of school, now. His parents are probably gonna kill him, too. What a short existence.

After the bell rings and everyone is gone, Zach walks slowly up to the desk, where the teacher is writing something down. 

"I can't stay after today, I'm picking up my parents since they're visiting," she says, still writing, and Zach drags his toes around on the floor, nervous.

The next thing he sees is her sticking a pink slip of paper in his face. He blinks. 

"Give this to your parents. It tells them I need to see them, after school, at their convenience. Next week. They can call me for a time. Got it?"

Zach nods mutely. 

He's going to be in even more trouble than before, now. 

She gestures with the paper, and Zach takes it.

This is it, right? This is his death warrant, and this is how he dies. He's going to go home and hand this to his mom and she's gonna-- 

Well, first she's gonna ask what took him so long getting home, because he has to walk through the park, and there's always something happening in the park and he has to pay attention to it or get involved in it and it always makes him late- 

And then his mother is going to read this, and yell, and then she's gonna show his dad when he gets home, and then Zach is gonna never leave the house again. Either they're gonna kill him, or keep him in the basement. Zach can't decide which is worse.

"Zach."

He jumps.

"You can go home."

Zach dashes out, before walking home, slowly. 

"M'home."

"Why are you late," his mother snaps (as usual) from the kitchen. "-what's that in your hand?"

"Teacher gave it to me," Zach mumbles. 

His mother takes the paper.

"Hasn't she told you to make eye contact when you talk to adults?" 

Zach doesn't even know how to reply. 

His mother glares at him. "What the hell kind of damage can you do in one week?" 

"Wh-" 

"It's only been one week and you're already getting us called in-- what are people going to say, Zach, don't you ever think?" 

Zach swallows thickly. 

"I-I-" 

"Your father is not going to be happy when he hears about this," she says decisively. 

"Sorry." 

"Don't apologize if you don't mean it, Zach," his mother snaps, seemingly indifferent to whether Zach is close to tears or not. (He kind of is. This is his first time experiencing this, after all, but looking back he knows it sure wasn't going to be his last.)

The problem is he doesn't understand. Being in this position is the worst, because he just feels like a square peg in a round hole but no one has any word for why, and in fact, everyone is unhappy with him for it. 

But most of all he's only six or so, and doesn't understand much of anything at all. And it feels like he should.

"Do your homework, right now, then go to your room. Immediately. I'll call you for dinner."

Zach pauses, trying to get himself together. He has to.

"Are you listening!"

Zach jumps. 

"Y-Yeah, ma!" 

"Then sit down and do what you're told. And remember to look at people when you're talking to them!" 

"Okay..."

Zach throws his backpack onto the dining table and hops up into the seat before pulling out his homework.


	5. Boulaios

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greek Name: Βουλαιος  
> Transliteration: Boulaios  
> Latin Spelling: Bulaeus  
> Translation: ...of the council.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently my recent pattern is being a hypocrite about my update schedule. So ignore all future comments and expect one chapter, at a minimum, any given day.

"Mr and Mrs. Spencer, it's great to see you." 

Zach's sitting on a chair by the desk, sitting on his hands. His legs are swinging slightly, eyes firmly fixed on his knees.

"...he's just- energetic," is what the teacher is saying as soon as he starts listening again. "Too-- energetic."

"Yes, we're aware." 

"Have you considered examination for-" 

"He doesn't need that," his mother interrupts, her voice short. 

"Of course, I'm just- required to recommend-"

"Well you have." 

Zach has no idea what's happening around him. 

He never does, though, so it's not like it's an unusual feeling. 

He kind of wants to sink into the ground. Or be at home playing video games. Or sink into the ground and be miraculously teleported back to his room to play video games in peace and never be bothered about school and life ever again. 

That would be really nice. 

It's too bad that he really can't do that. 

This makes him think about how he's really very stuck on a level of Super Mario. Video games are one of the few things that can keep him sitting in one space for an extended period of time. 

He assumes that given that he's constantly in and out of trouble, he might not be able to upgrade his whole scene for a while. 

That's unfortunate. He was really hoping. 

Maybe his birthday and Christmas would be more lucrative? He's not sure. It's not like he can get out of here, though, and ask for newer games. And maybe a GameCube. 

Oh, right, everyone is talking about him. Time to feel awful and awkward again.

"In that case..." the teacher shrugs helplessly. 

"You will have to be assistive on this, so that he learns that he simply cannot live like this-" 

"Of course he can't," his mother snorts. "He's going to have to learn." 

Zach knows that he's going to be in deeper trouble if he does what he wants, which is to scream at them that he's trying really hard to learn, but he isn't. He's not learning. Is this something other people get over before going into school? Is he just an idiot?

Instead, he kicks his own chair a bit, and his mother puts one hand on his leg. It presses down hard enough that he stops to avoid the hurt, and she retracts it. 

He gets the message.

"Of course, as long as you understand that this is a problem." 

"What about sports?" his dad asks, and Zach can't help but be actually intrigued by that instead of the talk of his...deficiencies. 

"That'd be a good sink for his energy. Can't think of a day I came home from football and still had the energy to irritate anybody." 

"That's...actually a good idea, Shane," his mother says. 

The teacher nods. 

"Well, there's not really anything like that available for a kid his age, but in a few years, you can look into a couple of options. Until then, here's some help I can provide..."

\-- 

"So you started playing football." 

"Yeah." Zach shrugs. "I don' really get why this's important, though. I just started playin' because my parents thought it would make me less hyper." 

"Hm."

"Whassat?" 

"Nothing."

Zach shifts. 

"So you started playing football." 

"Yeah." 

"And did it work?"

"Huh?" 

"Did it get rid of your energy." 

"Uh. Kinda, but not really. It was fun, and I was good at it, and- I liked it, but-" 

"-but it wasn't a fix." 

"Nah." 

"So nothing changed." 

"Nah, and nobody really got why nothing changed." 

"You included?" 

Zach pauses. 

"--yeah, I guess." 

"Hm." 

"Why d'you keep sayin' that." 

"Mr. Johnson has made an unusual report," the psychologist comments. "For the moment-- when we're done, I'll leave it to you to ask him for the details, however, he has expressed...numerous health concerns regarding yourself and the other members of the team, presumably something that he sees through the helmet." 

"Wait, what? He scanned us?" 

"His concerns are detailed and quite legitimate in our current observation." 

"Can you just fucking tell me what Woody s-" 

"Once we finish here, you can ask him." 

Zach snorts. 

"Fine."

"What was playing football like." 

It would be hard not to miss the small smile pulling at the corners of Zach's mouth, now. 

He does love football. Even if he was kind of shoved into it for the purpose of making him more...docile, would be the closest word. 

It's almost as if he's calling back the experience. The adrenaline, the rush. The activity. 

It's only been a week or two since he last played, even.

"You miss it?"

"Just a bit, yeah." Zach gestures with his gun hand. 

"It's not like I can throw anymore." 

It's not the best exchange, but hey, it is an exchange. Zach isn't sure he'd be okay the way he was, honestly. He likes his-- new friends. It's not like he made those easily. And the support is...refreshingly nice. He's not always a fan of authority (who could have guessed?) but having a tiny little family like this one- it's not half bad. 

(He kind of wonders if this is what family is supposed to mean. As if he ever knew any better.)

"Well, it turned out I was pretty fuckin' good at it. Like, hella good. Like, if I wasn't so shit at school I'd already be outta here good." 

"So, good." 

"Yeah. I'd be off to-- I dunno, a good college team. Like the Washin'ton huskies or whatever. Could be somewhere where m'not bothering you, huh?" 

"'Of all the words of mice and men, the saddest are, 'It could have been.''" 

"--anyway. Playin' football was pretty awesome. Not as awesome as fighting aliens and winning, I don't think, but, you know, close enough to it."


	6. Eleutheria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greek Name: Ελευθερια  
> Transliteration: Eleutheria  
> Latin Spelling: Eleutharia  
> Translation: Festival and Games of Zeus Eleutherios/Eleutherius (of Freedom)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slight break from tradition with the chapter titles, but hey, close enough?

Zach, off the bat (to use a phrase from the wrong sport) loves football. 

There's something immensely satisfying in his head about pushing people around like that, and winning. Winning is always nice. 

With every win, his sense of self is inflated slightly, until his reputation of having an ego big enough to count as a plus-one is kind of deserved. 

And maybe in some aspects, him having such a high view of himself makes sense.

"Spencer, play QB."

"What?"

"You heard me. You've got the best distance throw, even if your aim's-- yeah. So do it." 

Zach grins, pleased with himself. 

Okay, it's not as far aas he'll go in the future, it's elementary to middle school club football, but for once there's something he's good at. He's good at football.

People tell him when he's good at football and appreciate that he's good at football. 

Maybe he's not the best team player all the time, but at least he gets respect out here. 

He's been playing for a few years, anyway, by now. He's thirteen, about ready to enter at Milford High, and this isn't a high stakes game- it's actually about that. Most if not all the team are trying out for Varsity, and this is the part where they play some while their coach talks to the Milford coach. About who's not going to move up, who is, what positions- whatever coaches talk about, really. 

Zach's just ready to show off. It's what he does. 

It's funny and kind of ironic, because he never focuses well, that when he's playing nothing else in the world matters. 

Sometimes it's bad because that focus zeroes down to just being on his own concerns, and not those of the team. Other times, it's good because everyone is focusing on what the Milford High coach is looking at and Zach can't really care because all that matters is that he's here. 

It's early spring, so the air has some chill and bite to it as night is beginning to fall anyway. He's walking home after this. He's going to put his headphones in and listen to classic rock as he does. 

But he's not thinking about that right now, because he can feel the shape and resistance of the ball through his gloves as soon as it's passed to him, and the coach told him to try and pass, right? Pass? Because of his throwing arm? 

Right. There's a player at the back, currently open. It takes a fraction of a second to calculate that even if he misses the shot, the distance alone would be... well, the odds are low. 

Impulsively, Zach aims, cocks his arm back, and throws.

Unfortunately, shortly after the ball leaves his hand, someone from the defense goes crashing into his ribs until he's flat on his back, breath gone. 

There's a whistle, and Zach sits up, breathing deeply. 

"Great throw," someone says, and Zach blinks. 

"Did I make it?" 

"Yeah, man. All the way. Woulda scored." 

"Should have saved a throw like that for a real game," Zach mutters, and the defense guy laughs and offers him a hand. 

"Good job, though." 

"Thanks." 

"Alright, go to the locker room!" their coach shouts, and Zach pulls his helmet off and runs one hand through his sweaty hair.

"We'll be talking about this at practice Friday!" 

Zach grins. 

He gets to shower in the locker room at Milford High, at least, before walking home. 

By the time he steps outside, it's dark, and the streetlights are flickering. 

Zach pulls out his phone and plugs in his earbuds, and then the music turns on.

_It's snowing outside the rumbling sound_   
_Of engines roar in the night..._

-

Zach slams the door when he gets home.

"M'home!" 

"How was practice?" 

"Fine!" 

"Dinner's ready," his mother says, "Grab your plate then get upstairs and do your homework." 

Zach pops into the kitchen and grabs the set out food. 

"Thanks, ma." 

"I'm gonna be checking on you," she snaps, "So really do your homework!" 

(He has no such intention.) 

In his room, there's a sheet of classes he's got to pick for Milford high in the fall, which he puts the food down on once he's in his room, and he pulls out his controller from under a pile of crud.

He's gonna play some GTA tonight, how about. 

A lot of the time, Zach plays a shooter when he's stressed, but now there's almost something relaxing about it. It's a world where he can without consequences feel an impulse and do it. 

God knows that he's gotten in trouble for his impulses before. 

-

The next few days without incident- well, without much incident. He gets more teacher complaints about how he fidgets in class and he habitually tunes out most of the work. 

The most important part here is that he gets to hear about the results of the football tryouts soon. Doubtless some thought went into it. Ideally, he gets to move up to Milford High's team, with an illustrious history (as Zach could tell anyone.) Five time state champions, with an almost unbroken record-making winning streak the year after he was born, in 1997. 

Believe him, Milford High is gonna have another championship with him on that team. Oh, and never losing once to their rivals (Ruby Lakes can suck a dick) would be a great legacy too. Being remembered as "the Milford player who, when used, never lost to Ruby Lakes" would be possibly the most prestigious title in Milford. Zach sets high standards for his future in football.

As soon as his final class lets out, he's the first one outside and heading towards the high school (a short walk). He's the first one to the bleachers, even though practice isn't for a while, where he waits and feels a spring wind through his hair. 

Something important is going to happen on this football field, and he's going to be down there making it happen. 

He just knows it.

 


	7. Sêmaleos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greek Name: Σημαλεος  
> Transliteration: Sêmaleos  
> Latin Spelling: Semaleus  
> Translation: ...giver of signs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really torn on the title for this chapter-- so many good epithets, not enough chapters to use them in... 
> 
> I might as well count my blessings, because oh buddy, wait until I have to title fics about Woody using Hades titles...there's not a lot of those. 
> 
> And hey, speaking of Woody...

It's about half an hour before the meeting proper when Zach moves to the actual location, the Milford gym. Yeah, he could have been sitting there the whole time, but who cares, man. It was probably locked anyway, and he likes the field way better. There's something about the astro-turf, the wind, the feeling...

Anyway, Zach moves in to the gym (now unlocked) and sits himself down in the stands before pulling out his phone and wasting time checking twitter.

Before he knows it, everyone is there and their coach is standing on the basketball court and talking. 

"Most'f you will be moving up 'ccording to the coach from Milford. Shut up while I read the list-" 

Zach is both hyperaware and disfocused, somehow, as the list goes on. Yeah, yeah, yeah, get to the good stuff. 

"Spencer!"

He jumps. 

"Fuchs was impressed with that throw at the end of practice. You're in." 

Zach grins. 

Destiny part one complete, thank you very much. Zach feels the need to jump around a lot. 

He excuses himself and holds it in long enough to run outside and jump up and down and spin, pumping his fists to himself. 

_He's going to be someone great._

-

"MA!" 

"You're tracking mud in, and don't run in the house like that! Now what happened--" 

"I made Varsity!" 

"That's great," she says. "When do you start?" 

"This summer, practice with the team." 

"Do you have any more-" she waves a hand dismissively. "Events soon?" 

"Not until we start summer practice, no." 

She sighs. 

"Okay. Do your homework."

Zach sighs, a little disappointed. Of course no one is excited about it as he is. Or maybe was. 

"Yeah, ma." 

"You need to be at mass on Sunday," she adds as Zach grabs food from the cabinets. "You've missed it too many times. I won't take you sleeping as an excuse, you'll need to be awake and in your good clothes by 9:30, young man." 

Zach sighs. God (no joke intended), he hates mass. Holding in all his energy just feels toxic to him, like not itching a mosquito bite, and everyone expects him to sit still and take it. 

And besides, the idea of a God has never quite stuck with him anyway. 

If there's a God, the guy sure doesn't seem to listen to him. 

Or who knows, maybe he deserves that. He's sure that's what his mom thinks. 

"Yeah, of course ma."

No point in arguing with her, is there.

-

It's June before Zach plays again, a practice that's only of note in retrospect. Even then, looking back he knows that only one part of it is notable- although, he never had a clue. 

When Zach goes to the sideline after finishing some exercise- recalling, he doesn't even remember what it was- and he sees someone he doesn't recognize. 

"Ey, who the hell are you?" 

The guy jumps a little, before replying (with a face Zach deems kind of goofy), "I get the water." 

"Oh, okay." Zach snorts softly to himself. "Toss me a bottle, then?" 

"Sure!" 

The throw is weak, but Zach catches it anyway. Plus, it's underhand. Unsurprisingly. Zach's developed a bad habit of throwing items to people in the overhand style. His mother and many teachers have scolded him before for hitting someone with a pencil on accident. 

But now's not the time to be noticing small things and thinking about his own...deficiencies. 

"Thanks," Zach says shortly.

"No problem!" the guy replies, totally unfazed. "I'm Woody, if you need anything!" 

"Zach," Zach replies, still disinterested. 

"And...thanks." 

Woody flashes him a thumbs up. 

Zach decides that the guy is nice, but there's something about him that just...it's odd, really, but there's something about Woody. 

-

"-so that's when you met Mr. Johnson." 

"Yeah, I mean, I didn't think a ton about it. He's just some guy, right? Works with the team. Gets the stupid water."

"You sound like you regret that view."

"Just a bit," Zach says cautiously. "Woody's...a nice guy, really. S'too bad a lot of people write him off. I never would have known that if not for..." 

He gestures with his gun hand. "Yeah." 

"You said you have a girlfriend." 

It's hard to miss how Zach lights up at this, too, with a great deal of affection. He loves her, any viewer could tell.

"Yeah, I do. Mindy." 

"Hagan's daughter?" 

"Yep, as much as he hates it." 

"Tell me about her." 

"She's a cheerleader," he says, clearly pleased. "You know. Totally bangin'. Super athletic. Kicked my ass once. She's also got a reputation as one of the cleverest people in the school. Great grades, or so I'm told. She likes to cook, she's probably keepin' all of us alive at the moment. I mean, you can tell she cares. She's goin' off to college in Austin in the fall, she thinks. She's not sure where yet. She applied t'some places as a chem major, and some for clothing design programs. She's fuckin' clever, man. She's goin' places, man, I know it." 

"How did you meet her?"

"Well, she's two years younger'n me, so it musta been...my junior year or so?" Zach pauses. 

"Yeah, she was just then trying out for cheer. This was b'fore I failed my first senior year, so, we didn' think as much about doing anything...serious. Mos'ly, at the time, it was just me flirtin' with a pretty cute freshie an' I didn't think it would go anywhere." 

He shrugs. 

"Guess I'm lucky in love." 

"So you were pretty significantly older than her." 

"Yeah, I guess. Didn't feel like a ton, but then again, neither of us were looking at serious stuff." 

"So you only started dating recently." 

"Well, yeah. We knew each other for a while, though. Flirted a bit. Nothin' major."


	8. Kataibatês

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greek Name: Καταιβατης  
> Transliteration: Kataibatês  
> Latin Spelling: Cataebates  
> Translation: ...descending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [PLEASE READ if not linking through from my tumblr] 
> 
> This chapter turned out WAY DARKER than I originally intended this story to get. This chapter includes mentions and implications of child abuse. In this chapter, a child is hit by their parents. If this triggers you, go no further. The next update will be less...trigger-y. My apologies.

He first spots her at a game.

She's on the sidelines, doing stunts, and then during halftime when he's drinking a bottle of water some football mom contributed for the game (hell, he can't even be bothered to remember who) and there she is, her golden-blond hair pulled back with red and white ribbons. He's a little too far off to see the color of her eyes, but they're light, and sparkling, and all Zach thinks to himself is she's cute.

Halfway through the game he's swapped out for someone else and on the sidelines he's closer to her and he can tell her eyes are lighter, greenish, and she's chatting with some of the other cheerleaders. 

"Hey, ladies." 

"Piss off, Zach," one of the girls (Zach thinks her name is Casey or Catherine or something like that) says. 

"I'm just saying hi," he says, faux-hurt. "Who's the new girl." 

New girl introduces herself, which Zach also likes. 

"Mindy Hagan." 

"Zach Spencer." He winks. Thank god his helmet is off, he realizes about 30 seconds after having done it. Because she can actually see his face and stuff. 

To his surprise, she giggles. 

"Freshman?" he says, on a guess, and Casey or Catherine or Whatever nods.

"Exactly, now piss off."

Zach shrugs. 

"Worth a shot." 

He winks at Mindy again as he heads back for the bench. 

"Hey! Woody! Hit me with another goddamn waterbottle!" 

Woody jumps. "Oh!" 

He fumbles with the cooler a moment before throwing one badly, so that it lands at Zach's feet. Zach sighs and bends down to pick it up. 

"Come on, dumbass." 

(He can't see it, but Mindy smiles.)

\- 

At some point he gets ahold of her phone number and a year or so later she's the first one to text him after...after. 

( _"What the f- held back?"_

_"This is absolutely unacceptable, Zach, you cannot fail 12th grade!"_

_"Well I did, okay?"_

_"This is absolutely fucking unacceptable, pardon my language!" his mother snaps._

_"What the hell were you thinking!"_

_"I don't know!" Zach snaps. "I don't know, okay? You know I've never been good at school, and there's a lot of shit going on this year on top of the normal shit, and it's fucking hard! Just- leave me alone, okay? I don't know! I-"_

_That's when Zach gets cut off. Rudely, and suddenly, and honestly, he didn't expect this at all. He's pretty sure that everything in the world just stopped happening around him and the left side of his face hurts. It's not like he hasn't gotten smacked around before in football, but this is different, you don't expect this._

_"Go upstairs," his father snarls, and Zach nods mutely._ )

Half an hour or so of bitter arguing and unhappiness later, Zach is lying in his bed holding an ice pack to his face with his left hand and wondering if he's gonna have to explain himself tomorrow. 

That's when he hears his phone buzz. They were too busy yelling at him to cover whether or not he gets anything more than a big bruise on his cheekbone out of it. 

He's serious that he doesn't know what he did for this, okay? He doesn't know what he did that makes him so wrong and different and why can't he be like everyone else for once, already, God knows he tries all the time. 

Oh right, his message light is blinking. 

**[Mindy 07:32 PM: hey, I heard u failed 12th grade]**

**[Zach <3 07:37 PM: oh, great, who told you] **

**[Mindy 07:40 PM: heard from the team. u ok?]**

**[Zach <3 07:41 PM: well my parents weren't...happy]**

**[Mindy 07:42 PM: no i don't imagine anyone would be :(]**

**[Zach <3 07:43 PM: very unhappy i guess u could say] **

**[Zach <3 07:43 PM: why do u ask tho]**

**[Mindy 07:44 PM: well i figured that my parents would shit themselves if i got a C in a class and ur parents dont have the best reputation if u dont mind me saying]**

**[Zach <3 07:44 PM: lmao i think i know that. howd you figure tho]**

**[Mindy 07:46 PM: my dads been around a bit :)]**

**[Zach <3 07:47 PM: anyway. its not that great atm.]**

**[Mindy 07:47 PM: well look on the bright side]**

**[Zach <3 07:47 PM: how do i do THAT.] **

**[Mindy 07:47 PM: well you're staying back another year right?]**

**[Zach <3 07:48 PM: ? yeah] **

**[Mindy 07:48 PM: that definitely means we get to see more of each other! :)]**

**[Zach <3 07:49 PM: guess so]**

**[Mindy 07: 49 PM: & u get to play more with the Mustangs. leaving them would be kind of depressing]**

**[Zach <3 07:49 PM: thats true]**

**[Mindy 07:51 PM: see? less depressing already]**

**[Zach <3 07:51 PM: youre right]**

**[Zach <3 07:51 PM: thanks mindy] **

**[Mindy 07:53 PM: no problem]**

**[Mindy 07:55 PM: i'm with my mom for the weekend & shes makin cookies. u want some on monday]**

**[Zach <3 07:56 PM: what kind?]**

**[Mindy 08:01 PM: snickerdoodles!]**

**[Zach <3 08:03 PM: aw, sick, yes!] **

**[Mindy 08:03 PM: i'll bring you some !]**

**[Zach <3 08:07 PM: hey thanks]**

**[Zach <3 08:10 PM: probably just gonna sleep this off a bit &...keep going i guess]**

**[Zach <3 08:11 PM: not really anything i can do about this at this point]**

**[Zach <3 08:11 PM: seeya monday]**

**[Mindy 08:30 PM: oh !! night zach]**

**[Mindy 08:32 PM: <3]**

For the first time in as long as he can remember today, Zach smiles.

-

"Did they hit you often?" 

Zach stiffens. 

"That was...the first time, so-" 

"And this was fairly recently."

"Mm-hm." 

"And you said before you didn't get along with them."

"They started kinda ignoring me, mostly, after a bit, up until I failed high school the first time." 

"I see." 

"And...the next major incident I can think of was when the suit fell." 

"Of course, we all know the sequence of events. Have you spoken to your parents since then?" 

Zach shakes his head. "A bit, but I don't think I wanna."

"And what have they said." 

"Bitched me out for causing trouble. Hagan helped me pick up some shit from there and I haven' talked to them since." 

"That's probably for the best." 

"Mm." 

"Tell me about the suit."

"I thought you said you already know about it." 

"Well, I know the basics, but what do you remember?" 

Zach sighs. 

"Look, I didn't think any of this would happen when I _saw_ the stupid ship."


	9. Areios

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greek Name: Αρειος  
> Transliteration: Areios  
> Latin Spelling: Areius   
> Translation: ...of war/warlike

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And following that dark chapter...the plot of Lazer Team, with some lighter fare.
> 
> One more chapter to go, and I promise-- this one may be a doozy in length, but it will not disappoint.

In fact, when Zach sees the ship, he's still kind of buzzed and he's already impulsive and sure, sounds like a great idea to check it out. 

Zach never ignores his impulses. He either promptly listens to them or puts them off, in fact. 

So he immediately starts moving towards the ship.

"--it's probably military, and we did not shoot it down."

The sort of light barrier over the cockpit vanishes, and Zach can tell he's not the only one who jumps at the sound it makes. 

It takes a minute before Zach starts actually processing what he's seeing, and he's halfway through pulling his jacket off anyway. 

"No way, finders keepers, I'm hocking all this shit!" 

And that's when he makes eye contact- or, as close as it gets- with the gun. 

"...except for this one." 

- 

Zach's arm is sore. In a circle all around, where the gun meets his forearm, just below his elbow. 

He's not a fan. It feels like he got about fifty shots in the same spot. He has to keep moving it to keep his mind off this stuff, if he stops, he gets sore to the bone.

It's way late- he can't even tell the time- but he's still awake, and Woody still is. 

"Do you not need to sleep now?" Zach asks, snarky. Woody shrugs. 

"I'm dealing with some processes involving the expansion of my current brain capacity and the insertion of over 500 discrete helmet functions. I have to be awake to learn how to-"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, I get it."

They're both silent for a moment, and Zach thinks about how it's odd, but he's pretty sure that he gets more respect from the three idiots around him than anyone before. 

"Zachary?" 

Zach almost flinches. No one calls him that but his parents, when they're angry. 

But something about Woody's accent and it being Woody is nice. 

"Yeah?" 

Woody pauses, as if struggling with words for a moment.

"...you have a slight fracture on your left cheekbone." 

Zach jumps slightly. 

"Ah. Musta been from the game." 

Woody hums softly, as if disinterested in the topic. 

"You...and Mindy...?"

"I don't know if we're a thing, if that's what you're asking, but she clearly wants me bad, dude."

Woody makes a small noise, clearly feeling-- something, but Zach can't quite tell what. 

Too bad for that helmet, Zach thinks impulsively. I'd wonder if he's into me.

Then he shuts that down because, well, nah, no way. 

- 

"Save us, lazer team!" 

Aw, man.

Look. Zach made the name lazer team. He didn't really expect a literal kid to be saying it on national TV in the context of save the entire planet please.

He's the lazer in lazer team. And he feels like shit, because it's not that he hated people, for all he was rude to them once or twice or...often, very often. 

He's impulsive and hyperactive, not an asshole. 

"We're pieces of shit."

And it doesn't matter what happens next, just, he needs to get out of the car and go in there, alone if necessary. 

- 

Zach's had a lot of time to think before he hears someone get in the driver's seat. 

This is...fucking dandy. He's going to get booked, and his parents are going to come to the station, and bitch him out for-- whatever perceived wrongs he's done now, or even the real wrongs he's done, that they know of. 

And they're going to take him home and...well, who knows what's going to happen then. Zach can already feel his cheekbones aching just a bit.

"Look man, you have to listen to me. I have this big alien gun, that I kind of stole from the army, but there's gotta be time to get this to someone who can-" 

"Hey, kid." 

Wait, what?

"I'm not always gonna be around to bail you out. You know that, right?"

Zach feels his stomach drop and rise, but in a pleasant way, like a successful bungee jump. 

And that's when he realizes everyone else is here and he's happy, okay, he's happy. Even to see shitlord-- um, sorry, Adam. 

Why has it taken him this long to find a small family that's broken in all the right ways? 

\- 

"...I mean, you know what happened next. We fought the fucker." 

"And Adam..." 

"Yeah, that happened."

"You don't have strong feelings about it?" 

Zach shrugs. 

"I didn't know Adam that well, and when I did he was trying to fail us. I...guess I appreciate his sacrifice for us. I dunno why he did it, but he did save the world." 

The psychologist taps his pencil on his clipboard. 

"Thank you." 

"You mean I can go." 

"Yes, you can return to your quarters." 

"Are any of the others coming in today?" 

"No, not until tomorrow." 

"Gotcha." 

Zach has half a mind to ask Woody what the hell that report was on.


	10. Phyxios

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greek Name: Φυξιος  
> Transliteration: Phyxios  
> Latin Spelling: Phyxius  
> Translation: ...of refuge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, the last chapter! 
> 
> This fic went by...way fast. I'm throwing around concepts for my next backstory fics, some of which I allude to in this chapter. But be sure- you haven't seen the last of me, or these boys.
> 
> "And oh my god,  
> What a world you have made here  
> What a terrible world, what a beautiful world  
> What a world you have made here." 
> 
> \--The Decemberists, 12/17/12

"Woody!" 

"Yes?" 

"What the fuck did you tell those guys?" 

"Huh?" 

"When I was just in there, they said that you told them something, that you had expressed some kind of concerns about me-"

"Well, not just about you-!" 

"What the hell, man, I don't need help, I'm fine, I-" 

"Did they tell you what I said?" Woody yelps, taking a step back. 

Zach pauses, surprised. 

"I see so much now, and I'm worried! About everyone! I had to use that information somehow, and I really did plan on telling you, I-" 

"Then tell me now, man, what did you tell them?" 

Woody shrinks back slightly. 

"I...I don't know how accurate this thing is, alright? The best I could rate my analysis is an educated guess, and I'm not a professional, and because I never heard anything about you mentioning things like this, and I asked Mindy and she had never heard of it so I imagined that you didn't know, and it was better that I told someone else first and DETIA has the resources to help you-"

"Help me with what?" Zach snaps. "You're being fucking confusing again, Woody!" 

"Sorry!" 

That's when Zach notices that Woody is actually leaning away from him, so he straightens up, takes a deep breath, and presses the rim of his gun hand to his forehead. 

"I'm not gonna hurt you." 

It's more a promise to himself that he's not gonna do that, but he's saying it anyway. 

Woody straightens as well. 

"When we were in the hospital, I noticed," Woody says softly. "I have a medical scan feature. It...it identifies common and uncommon human disorders and issues, as well as mental health disorders." 

"...mental health?" Zach says, confused. 

Woody nods. "Remember I, I-- noticed your football injury, on the first night. Fractured cheek bone. It's...healing, by the way." 

That is in no way a football injury, but Zach doesn't want to tell him that. 

"Yeah, so?"

Woody shifts in place for a while, and then Zach gestures with his good hand as if to say speed it up.

"-the helmet's diagnosed you and the others with um, some mental health issues, and I reported it, and that's why we're having all these meetings with psychologists and such--" 

"Wait, wait. Hold up. Me? I mean, I think after that scene in the high school we know Herman and Hagan need couples therapy, but what did that thing say about me?" 

"Um-"

"Just say it, for fuck's sake, Woody."

"Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder," Woody says, as if he's reading off a cue card, which isn't unlikely given the helmet. 

"Symptoms of ADHD typically begin in childhood and persist throughout life. Symptoms include aggression, excitability, hyperactivity, impulsivity, difficulty focusing, short attention span, mood swings, irritability, fidgeting, absent-mindedness- subpoint: losing items-" 

Zach feels his stomach drop just a bit.

"That's enough, that's enough."

"Sorry," Woody says softly. 

"No, I- don't be. Don't be."

"Is...something wr-" 

"No," Zach says. "It's- it's a lot." 

"Sorry-" 

"You don't need to be," Zach insists. "It's- my fault." 

"Respectfully," Woody says, "I thought the point of telling you this would be so you know it's not your fault."

Zach stiffens. 

"Whatever you want to say to that," he replies stiffly. 

- 

Life has its ups and downs, and naturally, Zach prefers the ups. 

Some months pass, and DETIA lets them move out and into Milford, and that's when he approaches Hagan and asks very quietly that he would much prefer staying at Hagan's place to going home.

It turns out, he's not the only one who doesn't want to go home again. 

Or- that this is his home now. 

"Zach! Stop opening the door with your right hand!" 

"Sorry, chief!" Zach calls airily. "Won't happen again!"

"You're denting the front door!" 

"It looks fine!" 

Just to spite Zach, Hagan approaches and swings the door back open. 

Definitely, his front door is crossed with dents and scratches at the height of Zach raising his right arm to push it open.

Zach snickers, and Hagan glares. 

"Don't make me have to paint this." 

"Whatever, old man." 

Hagan snorts. 

"Where's Mindy." 

"She's at the car, carrying stuff in with Woody, man. Can't carry with my bad hand."

"You're just being lazy." 

"Am I?" 

"We're home, daddy!" Mindy calls, gently kicking the door open long enough to haul some paper grocery bags through.

"Oh, thank god, the food."

Hagan takes a bag from her, before shooting an exaggerated glare at Zach. 

"Thank you for getting these."

"Thanks dad," Zach says, and while Hagan's eyes widen just a bit, he decides not to mention it and instead lets it slide. 

He doesn't mind building a new family, and Zach doesn't mind that he has one. 

Yes, maybe they're not a family in the literal sense, and a family that's...well, Herman bet that Hagan wasn't that good a cook and they sent Zach, Mindy, and Woody out for groceries so Hagan could anger-cook a full dinner just to prove he could. They're teasing to each other, and they banter, and they fight and laugh.

But the truth is? They understand, and when it matters, they're patient with Zach. 

They're all he really needs in a stupid little family.

"Hey! Woody!"

Woody blinks as he steps inside. 

"Yes?"

Zach puts his good arm around Woody's shoulders, despite the fact that Woody is carrying even more bags. 

"How much do you bet dinner tonight is gonna be garbage, or do you think Hagan wasn't lyin?" 

"Well, according to social cues observed during the original interaction that sparked this competition..."

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this fic and want to see more, I take requests on my tumblr (letthelazerteamlive)! 
> 
> If you liked this fic and don't have any requests, that's okay too! You can leave me a nice ask, comment, or kudos! Or reblog one of my tumblr promos for it! Or bookmark it! 
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> Have a great day!


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